American Lieutenant in Middle Earth
by Ally823
Summary: What would happen if a modern day American soldier was roughly thrown into Middle Earth? POSTPONED INDEFINITELY; see reasons in the Chapter 1 2012 A/Ns.
1. From Here to There

**Title: **_American Lieutenant in Middle Earth_

**Summary: **_What would happen if a modern day American soldier was roughly thrown into Middle Earth?_

**Spoilers: **_Material is borrowed from both book and movie sources._

**Disclaimer: **_I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and Houghton Mifflin Company._

**A/N: **_This is the better of two LotR fan fics I've written. This is my first posting on the site, so please be nice. Any helpful comments would be highly appreciated!_

**A/N Edit 2012a.: **_This story was postponed indefinitely for several reasons. Back when I first wrote it, I was under the misguided impression that if people didn't like what they read, they would leave well enough alone. HAHAHAHA! Yeah. That happened, all right. So, some of those people reviewed in ways that at the time, yes, hurt my feelings a little bit. I lost my drive to finish this baby._

_Now, years later, I'm almost feeling like continuing, except for one humungous problem: I don't remember where I was going with the plot. For those who were interested in it, you have my deepest apologies. I should have kept writing for the people who _did_ like my story, instead of meekly stepping down in favor of the few who openly voiced issues with my work. Unfortunately, I don't know where to proceed from here, other than to make small edits on what exists._

**A/N Edit 2012b.:**_ Speaking of those who openly voiced their issues with my work. This A/N is addressing some of those by way of informing you of the changes I've made:_

_Sam's last name is now Kaufmann. There was truth in the statement that her original last name was a poor choice, especially in lieu of the other fandom I chose to eventually write for. To the best of my knowledge, there are no famous Samantha Kaufmanns. Any resemblance to any such woman is purely coincidence._

_Sam makes a controversial statement. I _did not_ change or delete it. I did, however, asterisk (*) it so that I may explain _why_ she made the statement at the end of this chapter._

_I got reamed for placing women in open combat, which is not true to fact. This, too, I address at the end of the chapter._

**Chapter 1**

~ From Here to There ~

The desert silence was broken only by the crackle of a radio, the static of which almost seemed to blend with the wind. "Sierra One, this is Alpha. What is your location?"

Lieutenant Samantha Kaufmann jumped at the sudden sound. Next to her, her teammate Captain Terry Roland shifted uneasily; they were out on a recon mission and they had no idea if any enemies were near their location.

"About two clicks north northeast of the Iranian border," Lieutenant Colonel Jacobs rasped, which wasn't surprising, as they hadn't spoken for hours and were also trying to preserve their water supply.

"Got it, Colonel. Keep us posted," replied the Alpha Base tech.

"Yep." Jacobs turned his radio off and turned to speak to his team. Sam looked up nervously; she had that sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach that something bad would happen. "Okay, guys...and girls," he began. "That would be the conversation General Roberts told us to use as signal to head to the border. Now, we don't know where...or even if the enemy is near, so I want you guys to be extra alert."

"Yes, sir," came the quiet chorus from the five subordinates.

"Good. I'll take the point; Kelly, watch our six."

Captain Sue Kelly, the second in command, quickly stood up. "Yes, Sir," she said hoarsely.

The rest of the team stood up stiffly and began walking southwest toward the border. Sam was in the center with Sergeant William Harrison, while Lieutenant James Thompson watched the left side and Captain Roland on the right.

Just sitting around in the desert, waiting for enemy fire to suddenly rain down on them had made the team paranoid. They jumped at the hiss of sand every time the wind would pick up again, and little mini sand tornados took on the illusion of someone running to fire at them.

After about thirty minutes the heat and lack of water began to catch up to them, and even Jacobs began to lag. "Okay...fifteen minute break," he panted. Sam dropped down into the sand gratefully. The rest sat down a little more slowly.

"First recons suck, don't they?" Roland smirked, turning toward her.

"And the second, and the third, and the fourth, and-," put in Bill.

"Shut it Harrison," Kelly growled.

Sam smiled and nodded. She took as sip from her canteen and turned to glance at Jacobs, who had suddenly stood up.

"Sir, what's-" began Roland, but she quickly stopped upon seeing the glare Jacobs was giving her.

It was then that everyone else heard it. It was like a distant, shrill whistle, progressively getting closer.

"Oh, crap!" Sam heard Kelly say, and glanced in the direction Kelly was looking. Her heart leapt into her throat. _'Well,'_ she thought, _'we don't have to worry about enemies surrounding us anymore.'_ What appeared to be a missile was heading in their general direction. When it landed, it would be close enough that the team would be killed in the aftershock.

"Why the _hell_ are they targeting the six of us!" shouted Jacobs angrily. "Why not aim for a bigger, better target! Scatter, spread out!"

"Sir, it's useless," James pointed out despairingly.

"That's an order _Lieutenant!_ We will _not_go down watching that missile come to us while we stand frozen in terror!" shouted Jacobs, his eyes wild and spit flying from his mouth.

Everyone reluctantly obeyed. Sam frantically scrambled up a dune as the shrill whistling, now more of a roar, got closer. She stopped and turned. None of her teammates were now visible from this half of the dune but the missile was disturbingly close. She stood ramrod still, and stared Death straight in the face. "I'm sorry, Sir," she whispered, "but I will not die running from Death."

The missile struck somewhere in front of her. As the shockwave hit her, she screamed as she felt herself being torn apart but it was drowned out by the tremendous roar from the wave.

Sam gasped and woke up. She felt like she had been pummeled extremely roughly; everywhere was sore. She blearily opened her eyes but quickly shut them in an attempt to darken the incredibly bright sun. It also took her a moment to realize that she was lying on her back, on her survival pack, which was very uncomfortable.

She rolled onto her side and gasped at the pain that wracked her body in waves. _'Nothing feels broken,'_ she thought, _'just severely beat up.'_

When she opened her eyes again, the sun wasn't as bright, so she began to observe her surroundings. _'Okay...this isn't Heaven...or Hell,'_ she observed in confusion. Her first clue was that she was in a mountainous region and no gates (from either place) were anywhere. Her second clue was that she hadn't walked any tunnels with bright lights at the end.

She tried to stand up, but pain lanced through her legs and shoulders. Determined, she took her pack off and then tried standing. It wasn't as unbearable without her bag. Next she tried walking, first slowly, then quicker as she became more confident that her legs wouldn't give out. Triumphantly, she walked over to her pack and grabbed her canteen and blanket. She took a drink from her canteen and put it back before wrapping herself in the blanket and managing to put her pack over one shoulder.

_'Shit,'_ she thought, _'Where do I go?'_ If the others were here, then they may have been out as long as she was...however long that had been. "Colonel!" she cried. "Captains Kelly, Roland! James! Harrison, I'm over here!" The only response she got was startled blackbirds taking off. "Someone!" she called, beginning to despair.

The wind was beginning to cut through her blanket and the cold that seeped into her bones caused her to realize she had just been in a desert when a missile supposedly killed her, and now she was on a mountain...a very _cold_ mountain.

She quickly turned as she heard what sounded like...hoof beats? It also then occurred to her that she was on a stone road. Out of instinct, she hurtled herself closer to the side of the mountain, causing more waves of pain. She gave a sharp gasp as a group of about five people rounded the corner and all she could do was stare at them dumbly. At the head was a long-haired, blonde man, who instantly dismounted on seeing her on the ground.

"Are you the one who shouted?" he demanded sharply.

Sam found her voice. "I-I...my team...the enemy fired a missile at us and it landed. I'm trying to find my team. If I'm a-alive th-then they have to be...to be too," she rambled.

The man looked at her with a slightly concerned look on his face. "And who fired the...missile?" he asked doubtfully.

"The I-Iranians. Please...I have to find the rest of my team." She looked at him pleadingly. It never occurred to her that she might not be speaking to a friend, but she was so desperate to prove that this was some nightmare the night before her recon mission even started.

The man turned and said something to one of his comrades in a strange language she couldn't place and picked her up. She gasped and began to protest. "I'm perfectly capable of walking by myself." He ignored her and put her behind his saddle and swung up in front of her.

"Hey! Where the hell are you taking me!" she demanded.

"Quiet," hissed the man, "lest you alert any enemies to our whereabouts." The party walked on again.

"Well, then, you can tell me whether you're good guys or bad," Sam demanded in a quieter tone. Regardless of whose side these people were on, she didn't want to be killed in any crossfires _she_ had caused.

The man took a second to answer, which made Sam instantly suspicious. "We are not servants of the Dark Lord, if that is what you mean," he finally answered.

"Dark Lord?" Sam said incredulously. Now she was sure this was a dream, or some twisted torture that the Iranians had concocted. Then a thought occurred to her: he obviously figured that she didn't serve this Dark Lord so she was willing to build a minimum amount of trust.

"Yes!" he hissed impatiently.

_'Well so-rry,'_ she thought sarcastically. "So do you think I work for this-this Dark Lord?" she asked.

"I would have more than likely slain you on spot if I had. You are obviously not an orc, nor do you bear any major similarities to one of the Haradrim. You closer resemble a person of Gondor, but I have yet to see a woman fight for the Gondorian army, and wear something such as you are," he replied.

_'Oh, sexist are we,'_ thought Sam. "Uh huh. And you are?" she heard some shifting behind her, but she was beginning to get a migraine, as her eyes were still sun-sensitive, and she didn't want to partially turn and strain her eyes anymore.

"I am Prince Legolas of Mirkwood," the man-Legolas-replied.

_'Prince Legolas? That doesn't sound Iranian to me, and besides that, he's speaking fluent English. Well, if we're using titles...'_ "I'm Lieutenant Samantha Kaufmann," she returned. "But I'm usually called Sam."

"That isn't a name from any place here that I know of. Where are you from?"

"I'm American." When he didn't answer and it became slightly tense, she continued, "Um, and if my geography is right, America is west of here." The tension eased up somewhat.

After an awkward silence, Sam asked, "Wh-what time is it?" The numbers on her watch were blinking and the time read "0:23:42" and didn't change no matter how much time lapsed between the other times she checked it.

"It is almost midday," replied Legolas, sounding mildly amused.

"Oh," Sam said. "Uh, I don't want to lower your food supplies any, but do you guys have anything more appetizing than an MRE?"

"MRE?" asked Legolas.

"Meal Ready to Eat. And they're that crappiest thing someone could want for food, even versus the Mess food," replied Sam, more to herself toward the end. _'Man, I must have a concussion or something,'_ she thought. _'I'm not usually quite this random on emotions or thoughts or, geez! I_am_concussed!'_

Legolas took a minute to mull over her words. "Er, yes, we do have something that is better than your...M-R-E's" he replied slowly.

Even though it was almost noon, they didn't stop for lunch, which was fine with Sam; being blown up seemed to have an impact on one's appetite for some odd reason.

Legolas muttered something to one of his companions, who trotted their horse ahead. "Uh, exactly where are...we going?" asked Sam.

"Rivendell. I was called to attend the Council of Elrond," replied Legolas.

"Uh huh."

The scout came back and reported in the strange language.

"Hanon le," replied Legolas. "Tolo!" he cried and spurred his horse into a run. Sam gasped and flung her arms around Legolas's waist to prevent herself from falling off. Though she had often ridden horses, she wasn't as familiar with doubling, and the back of the horse was even bumpier to ride on than actually being on his back.

They rounded a bend and Sam gasped again, this time in awe and amazement. Before her was a valley with the most beautiful city she had ever seen built right into it.

"That is the city of Rivendell!" Legolas shouted.

As they entered the city, Legolas slowed his horse down and the others followed suit. He then dismounted and offered his hand to her. Sam took it and grasped the horse's mane with the other. "Thanks," she muttered as she slid off.

She turned around and jumped back. Legolas's wind-blown hair was completely behind his shoulders, but what startled Sam was the fact that he had pointed ears. "What the hell?" she squeaked.

Legolas looked at her, plainly confused. "Your ears...th-they're pointed!" _'Either that or I have a_really_bad concussion.'_

His expression changed from confused to incredulous. "You have never seen an Elf before?" he asked.

"Damn right I haven't! Okay, who are you working for? Bin Laden? Some new, deranged Muslim that Bush doesn't know about yet! What kind of mental torture are you trying to pull?*****" This was the last straw. She was entirely convinced that this was no longer a dream, but was now some crazy POW torture.

Legolas stared at her with an annoying calm look. "I do not know bin la den, muss limb, or Bush, nor am I...er...trying to pull any mental torture."

"Great! So, what... I have a mental problem caused by a concussion?"

"I do not understand your reason of panic-"

"Just...please, be quiet for a minute!" pleaded Sam, rubbing her temples. This was not helping her migraine, which had yet to ease up. _'Okay,'_ she thought. _'This guy doesn't act like he's intentionally trying to do anything except help me. But, saying that he's an Elf?'_ She sighed. _'Fine. I'll play along, but the minute he tries anything, I swear he will pay.'_

"Okay, fine," she said. "Whatever. You're an Elf."

"You are obviously unwell. I think, perhaps, Lord Elrond should make sure that you are not plagued by anything serious," said Legolas, in a tone that booked no room for argument.

"Wait," she said, planting her feet as he began to drag her off. "What about my team?"

"We saw no one before you. I am sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes.

_'They can't be dead. They're still probably near the border, while I'm...here,'_ she thought doubtfully. Tears began to form but she put on the steel military mask and followed Legolas, while his comrades followed them.

Sam barely noticed where she was walking as grief tried to overwhelm her. Her first recon and her team was already gone. She knew that something would happen; her gut had never let her down before. Then again, what would she have said to Colonel Jacobs: "Excuse me, um, Sir? Whenever something bad is going to happen I get a...feeling in my stomach. I don't think we should go on the mission today." He would have sent her straight to the base psychologist, who needed a shrink himself.

"Samantha?"

Sam jumped. Legolas was looking at her in concern. "We're at a suitable room for you."

She simply nodded and walked in. The room smelled faintly of apple cinnamon. It had a white four-poster bed on the left side and a balcony across from the door. On the right was a dresser. Next to the bed was a small, elaborate nightstand. On the floor were two down-soft pale cream rugs; one on the right of the bed and one at the foot of the bed. The color, though white, did ease her headache slightly.

"Samantha," Legolas called from the door. "In his message, Lord Elrond said a feast would be held tonight. You should attend, for there will more than likely be space at the table."

"Okay," she said softly. Legolas shut the door and apparently walked away, though Sam didn't hear him, not that she was paying much attention anyway.

She sat down on the bed. There was no way her team could have survived the impact and aftershock of the missile. It was therefore logical to assume that she too was dead, but this was a strange life-after-death kind of deal.

There was a soft knock at the door.

"Come in," called Sam. A beautiful, raven-haired...she-elf entered the room.

The elf smiled reassuringly. "Prince Legolas tells my father that he found you on the road."

Sam nodded. "He also said that you were looking for some of your people. I wish I could tell you that some people clad in your uniform arrived here within the day, but none have."

"I kinda figured that," Sam said, closing her eyes.

"I am Arwen. Could you please tell me what happened?" asked Arwen.

"My name's Sam, by the way, and I'd rather not discuss it."

"If you do not speak of what happened now, while it is recent, time will make your story harder to tell. The grief will fester for years to come and may eventually explode, much as Orodruin has every few centuries."

She opened her eyes. Well, if Arwen put it that way...

Sam opened her mouth and began to recall what happened, starting with the Alpha Base's last message.

**A/N 2: **_So, what did you think? Please R&R so I know whether to kill the story while it's only on the first chapter, or to keep it._

**A/N Edit 2012c.: **_Okay. In regards to my reaming on women in combat:_

_As an author, I believe I am entitled to __**creative license**__. This means that my story does _not_ have to follow guidelines laid out in our known world. One such example is my use of Sam and her fellow female soldiers in open combat. So, basically, what I'm trying to say is, "This is my story and my mind governs pretty much everything within its plot and inner workings. Just because something happens one way in reality doesn't mean my story absolutely has to obey reality's rules." I'm sorry if my inaccuracy was offensive to anyone. It wasn't done with the intent to piss you off. I promise._

***Another point I was reamed on was the sentence I asterisked. Again, as an author, I'm entitled to use literary tools. One such tool is known as **_character development_**. Am I a fictional character named Samantha Kaufmann? NO. Therefore, just because that's Sam's opinion, DOES NOT mean it's my opinion, too.**

**My plan, and I do remember this much about the future of this story, was for Sam to eventually learn tolerance. I have nothing against Muslims or Islam. By the end of this work of fiction, Sam wasn't going to either. Again, my intent wasn't to offend. I wrongly assumed that people would go along with the fact that, yes, that was **_**Sam's**_** opinion at present, but she **_**was going to eventually change her perspective.**_** For my incorrect assumption, I deeply and sincerely apologize.**

**~AC**

**R&R**


	2. The Council of Elrond

**A/N: **_I want to thank everyone who left reviews. As I've probably said in one fan fiction or another, they're more than greatly appreciated!_

**A/N Edit 2012: **_I went through all of the chapters I currently have up and couldn't help but notice some of my atrocious spelling mistakes. When I initially wrote this story, MicrosoftWord was a distant dream and had to make way for the sad reality of WordPad. The latter, unfortunately, contained no handy spell check. Now, however, I went through with Microsoft Word 2007's spell check, along with my own much-improved internal dictionary, and removed what errors I could find._

**Chapter 2**

~ The Council of Elrond ~

As Sam finished, she glanced at Arwen. The she-elf sat looking thoughtful for a moment, and then said, "I truly am sorry for the loss of your friends. You must understand, I...find this very...find it difficult to believe. Though I must admit, according to Legolas, you were more than shocked to learn of Elves, which in a way, does support what you are saying. There is also that you said you came from...A-mer-i-ca? That is a realm neither I, nor my father or brothers have heard of. And we-Legolas, Father, and I-agree that your accent and clothing are very...out-landish."

_'It's nice to know you trust me about as must as I trust you...people,'_ thought Sam sarcastically. "Well, like I tried to tell...Legolas, I'm...not...from...here," she said aloud, carefully saying the last part. An unsettling thought hit her. How could she not have thought about asking this before, she wondered in frustration. "Who's this oh-so-evil bad guy you guys are trying to fight?" Even if this place wasn't real-or was?-she should still have tried to find out about the enemy sooner.

Arwen looked puzzled for a moment as she sifted through Sam's words. "That would be a matter for Father to discuss with you, if you wish. But not tonight. Tonight is a celebration."

"For what?" asked Sam.

"The Ring-bearer is healed from the wound he received from the Nazgul."

"Nazgul?"

"They, their fate, and their history are intertwined with that of the enemy you wish to know about. If you must ask, ask tomorrow, or tonight after the feast and celebration," said Arwen. As she got up and began to walk out, she paused. "In the closet there are robes and dresses of many sizes and colors. Wear what you see fit. The feast begins at sunset." And with that, she left, quietly closing the door behind her.

Sam glanced outside. In about an hour or so, it would be sunset. She reasoned it wouldn't hurt to make herself decent and to go eat. Her team's number two rule was, "See to yourself first. If you're hurt, you won't do your buddies much good. Then you can help your friends." The first rule, she was rudely reminded, was, "Never leave a member of your team behind." She broke the first rule; she left her entire team behind. How low could she get?

She opened the closet door (which she hadn't noticed right away on her initial first glance of the room) and gasped in shock. There was a beautiful array of robes and dresses. The closet was somewhat small and she saw why when she opened the door next to it. To her surprise there was a huge, though somewhat old-fashioned bathroom. Instead of a sink, there was a miniature waterfall, which, Sam noticed, could supply for both the large...bathtub with simple maneuvering of half-tubes. She wondered how the water would get warm once it was in the bathtub-thing, but her question was soon answered when she stuck her fingers under the fall and warm, almost hot, water poured over them.

Sam exited to find something to wear. In the end, she decided (somewhat to her disgust) on a dress. It was light blue, floor-length, with a cream-colored fabric inside the sleeves and in certain folds in the skirt. It had bell sleeves and, she noted, occasionally a strange symbol in certain places, such as near the bottom of the sleeves or near the bottom of the dress. She laid it out on the bed and took off her clothes (after closing the curtains by the windows) and went into the bathroom.

While the bathtub began to fill with warm water, she searched any extra nooks and crannies and shelves for certain items, such as a brush and soap.

When her quarry was found, she slipped into the water and began to scrub the desert grime off.

Sam, freshly groomed and clothed, stood in her room. It hadn't occurred to her to ask where the dining hall, or room or whatever it was, was located. Now though, she assumed that Arwen would send someone, since Arwen hopefully knew that Sam had no clue where it was.

Her auburn hair hung loosely at her shoulders, surprisingly not clashing too badly with the dress. The shoes looked even more painful than the shoes most teenage girls wore, but were actually very comfortable. She didn't want to wrinkle the dress by sitting on it so she resolved to pacing.

When a barely perceptible knock sounded at the door, Sam paused, just to make sure that it was a knock and not someone walking down the hall. "Come in," she called when the person knocked again.

She was surprised when Legolas opened the door and walked in.

"I am here to be your escort," he said so formally that it took most of Sam's military skill to keep her expression neutral and from showing her amusement.

Then she berated herself. Her team had just died today and she was already wanting to laugh? Or maybe this was just hysterics from being in shock. She couldn't afford to be off-guard; she still didn't know these people or exactly how must to trust them yet.

"Thanks," she said quietly. Team death, hysterics, or whatever, she almost couldn't suppress a girlish giggle; Legolas was kind of cute when he was wearing his "fancy tunic" thing, which happened to be a few shades lighter blue than her dress.

Legolas reopened the door and she walked through, trying not to trip. She paused to give him time to catch up and together they walked to the dining hall.

Sam sat trying to remember whose name went to whom. There were the Hobbits: Frodo, the one to whom the feast was dedicated; His servant, whose name, ironically, was Sam (short for Samwise); and Frodo's cousins, Merry and Pippin, who she had a small bit of trouble telling apart. The Elves: Legolas, who she already knew; Lord Elrond, her host and Arwen's father; Arwen herself; Arwen's twin brothers, Elladan and Elrohir; Glorfindel, the one who saved Frodo from the Nazgul a few days ago; Legolas's escort; and various others. Out of the Dwarves, she had only been introduced to Gloin and his son, Gimli.

She was seated next to Legolas and either Merry or Pippin (though by how their conversation was going, it was Pippin). Not too far away, she could see Frodo. He was particularly easy to tell apart because he was the skinniest of the four Hobbits, and even to Sam's untrained eyes, he seemed transparent and almost Elvish at times.

Her heart went out to him and how bad his injury must have been. Just before she had been stationed near Iran, she had been in Iraq. As she and her then team member, Sergeant Jeff Tomlinson, were driving down a seemingly abandoned road to deliver supplies, gunfire rang out along with various explosions. Suddenly, the road in front of them blew up and they had both lost consciousness. Two weeks later, she woke up in the infirmary. The doctor on duty informed her that she had been in a coma caused by a severe concussion. Before she could ask anything, her CO walked in and informed her that there had been a leak and the enemy had ambushed them. They had driven right onto a mine (which caused the truck to blow up), and she had gotten badly burned. Medics found her unconscious and not breathing. When she asked about Jeff, her CO paused and said that he had had too much head trauma and was too severely burned. Jeff had died on site.

Sam closed her eyes and tried to get control of her emotions. Her crying would only confirm that women here were too weak to be military.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Legolas was looking at her in concern. "Are you alright, my lady?" he asked softly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah," she said.

He didn't look convinced but he said nothing more. _'Oh screw this, Kaufmann,'_ she thought, _'just talk to...Pippin, or something.'_

She turned around and noted that Pippin seemed to have taken an interest in staring at his food instead of talking to Merry.

"Hi," she said. "Um, I'm Sam, uh, Lieutenant Samantha Kaufmann."

"Oh, hello," said Pippin, looking up. "I'm Peregrin Took, but I'm mostly called Pippin or Pip."

"How long have you been here?" asked Sam.

"Three days," he cast a hasty glace at Frodo before continuing, "We were so worried. Dear Bilbo and Sam, er, Samwise, most of all. And you?"

"I just got here today. It's kind of hard to explain, even more so for me to comprehend, but I was somewhere in the mountains and Legolas and his group picked me up," said Sam, half to herself. That's all it really was. A simple summary when so much happened; Sam wanted to laugh.

"Oh," said Pippin.

"You've hardly eaten anything," observed Sam.

"You haven't eaten much either," retorted Pip, his mouth twisting into a shadow of a smile. "Besides," he skewered a slice of ham and continued, "tonight is a celebration. We should be enjoying the food and speaking of happy things."

Sam smiled sadly. She could get to like Pippin. He was so innocent-or ignorant-of the horrors of war, which he was just beginning to learn existed. She hated to know that he would probably see so much more before he would return home.

Speaking of his home: "Where are you from?" she asked.

"Up north," he replied, and then immediately clarified at her confused expression. "In a beautiful place called the Shire."

She saw the wistful look on his face but refused to feel envy. He could return to his home within the week if he wanted to but she had to stay God knows where with a bunch of people from a fantasy novel!

She kept her voice neutral and asked, "What is it like?"

He turned to her with a distant look in his eyes. "It has many grassy hills, perfect for running through on a summer day. And nestled quietly in the hill are the Hobbit holes. I miss the roundness. Men and Elves favor angles too much. Ah, the Shire is as homely as Rivendell in the spring when the orchards are in full blossom and all the birds in their nests and the flower gardens blooming.

"I miss it terribly. I can't wait to go back home and get away from the outside. It's too big for us Hobbits. We aren't made for adventure. Cousin Bilbo adjusted fine to his adventure, but to be honest, I'm afraid I'll be like him. All I want is to settle down in the Shire with a pretty Hobbit-lass, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to stay in one place. Bilbo didn't leave until after sixty years, but he had Frodo. I'll only have Merry, but he might not want to stay either. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be saying all of this; it's just nice that someone will listen."

Sam smiled grimly. "It's okay. I know what it's like to want to go home so badly and to be afraid to. Where I come from, my country is in the middle of a war and I've been in it for two years now. The worst part is, I haven't seen my family in all of that time. War," Sam's voice caught, "war changed me, and I'm afraid my family won't like it. I hear stories that old war veterans have a hell of a time going back to their old life...that they can't stay still. I don't want to be like that."

Pippin's eyes grew wide. "You-", but Lord Elrond interrupted and announced the end of the feast. The guests rose and followed Elrond and Arwen out and into a large room with a cheerful fire nestled in the far wall between two pillars. Pippin walked between Sam and Merry. Sam was comforted at Legolas's presence next to her as well.

Sam went and sat down on a temptingly soft sofa. Pippin followed, tons of questions plainly written on his face.

"You were in a war?" he asked quietly as the Elven minstrels began to play.

Sam nodded. "And still am more or less."

"I did not think women were allowed to fight. Where are you from?"

"I'm from a country called the U.S.A. or the United States of America. The good ol' red, white, and blue. The land of the free, home of the brave," Sam put her face in her hands and sighed. "Alaska, the last frontier, home."

"Uh," began Pippin, "and...where is that?"

Sam lowered her hands. "_That_is west." She waved her hand vaguely some direction and said quietly, "_That_ is home."

Pippin stared at her hard for a moment before saying, "You miss your home. What happened?"

Sam was surprised but she didn't let it show on her face. "I was on a simple recon and my team was bombed. I-I'm the only one that survived." It sounded strange. _'I'm the only one that survived.'_ It was too hard to believe that she was the only one of her team that survived. Why her? Why was she the only one?

Sam glanced around the council. She was extremely confused as to why she was involved with it, but since Lord Elrond was technically her CO, she didn't question her orders.

She was seated with the Elves. The night before (with a very red face) she asked to borrow one of Legolas's tunics so that she could be in uniform.

After the first hour (where Sam learned the names of a few more of the inhabitants) she decided that this meeting was even worse than the briefings back at base.

Her attention was caught immediately when the Dwarf-Gimli-shouted, "I would be dead before I saw the Ring in the hands of an Elf!"

It was then that she noticed that Legolas was standing and looking livid, though he did hold his comrades back when they stood up to go to his defense.

Suddenly, everyone stood up and began arguing with everybody else. _'Maybe this meeting is better than the briefings back home. This never happens.'_

The arguing finally died when the little Hobbit, Frodo, shouted over the noise, "I will take it!" When conversation died down he said, "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though, I do not know the way."

The old man in grey robes—Gandalf—walked forward. "I will help you bear this burden, Frodo Baggins, as long as it is yours to bear."

One of the men, named Aragorn, came forward and bent down on one knee to look the Hobbit in the eye. "By my life or death, if I can protect you, I will. You have my sword."

Legolas stepped forward. "And you have my bow."

Gimli followed suite (in Sam's opinion just to piss Legolas off). "And my ax." If pissing the poor Elf was his intention, he was sure as hell succeeding.

The other man, called Boromir, walked forward. "You carry the fates of us all little one. If this is indeed the will of the Council, then Gondor will see it done."

Suddenly Samwise burst out from behind some bushes. "Hey! Mr. Frodo's not goin' anywhere without me!"

"No indeed as it is highly impossible to separate you two, even when he is invited to a secret Council and you are not," said Lord Elrond in amusement, which turned to exasperation when Merry and Pippin burst out from behind two pillars.

Pippin cried indignantly, "Hey, we're comin' too!"

Merry finished the statement, "And you'll have to send us home in a sack to stop us."

"Anyway," said Pippin, "you need people of intelligence on this sort of mission...quest...thing."

"Well, that rules you out Pip," retorted Merry.

Sam was at a loss. Should she go too? Then she recalled her conversation with Pip the previous night and closed her eyes. She was one of those "old war veterans" who couldn't stay settled.

She opened her eyes and stood up. All eyes landed on her. "I know I'm not a man," she began, choosing her words carefully, "but I do know the horrors of war. I can't just sit around while these guys are facing death. I will protect Frodo as fiercely as I protect my country." As far as she was concerned, she was representing her own race as well and still protected America, at least, that's what she told herself.

Lord Elrond nodded in approval. "Ten companions. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

"Great," said Pippin. "Where are we going?"

**R&R**


	3. Truths and Revelations

**Chapter 3**

~ Truth and Revelations ~

Sam sat on her bed, while doubts plagued her mind. What had she gotten herself into? Why had she volunteered?

A part of her wanted to answer that it would be quick and easy suicide. But in truth, she felt obligated to protect...people whom she thought of as new friends. There was the Old Veteran Syndrome (her new name for the inability of a soldier to "settle down" after returning home from war) but all in all, in doing this wasn't she just helping to fight a war here in which she had failed to survive back home?

More than anything though, she wanted to make up for the fact that she lost her teammates by doing everything within her power to ensure this new team's-this new _fellowship's_-survival. This would be her way to avenge the teammates that died in an unfair...surely it couldn't even be called fight or battle?

She had one problem.

Sam sighed and rubbed her face. It'd look stupid to walk into Lord Elrond's office now asking about an enemy she'd practically already volunteered to fight.

She stood up and walked over to her balcony and looked out. The view was breath-taking. She had an awesome angle at the waterfall and how it gushed melodically into the valley. Gazing out, she knew no man-made New York skyscraper could compare to the awe inspiring refuge of Rivendell. It was especially beautiful at sunset when the colorful rays of the sun reflected off of the sides of the valley and caught in the spray of the waterfall, making a gorgeous collection of rainbows.

Suddenly, movement below caused her to tense up and freeze. She relaxed when Frodo and Samwise appeared moments later and released the breath she didn't realize she had been holding. She noted that Frodo seemed troubled but the expression cleared up when he met a figure Sam hadn't noticed. The figure moved out into the sunlight and she saw that it was the older Hobbit, Bilbo, if she remembered his name right.

She breathed in deeply and made a decision. If she was walking into a battle, then she would walk in knowing about her enemy instead of going in blind. Sam turned and began her trek to Lord Elrond's office. Luckily, there was still plenty of day left, because she had little to no idea where Elrond's office was.

Sam had to admit that she still didn't trust these guys. They called themselves Elves and Dwarves and Hobbits for crying out loud! In her opinion the Hobbits were by far the most trustworthy. They still had an aura of innocence of not having seen much of the outside world, but their eyes told her that they had seen their share of horrors in their short venture from the...Shire, wasn't it called?

The Dwarves might as well have been Hobbits to her. Both were short but they did have some differences. The Hobbits were happy and shorter still. The Dwarves had long, thick beards and weren't as...cheerful and were stouter.

It was the Elves and the man who called himself a _wizard_ named Gandalf that she was warier about. The only "Elf" she was even close to inclined to trust was Legolas and she didn't know the exact reason why. Probably because he "rescued" her. Gandalf just freaked her out. He reminded her of General Roberts somewhat, but he was calling himself a _wizard_. No one in his right mind would call himself a wizard unless they were like, a math wizard or something equally geeky.

It was Boromir that she was going to have to be the most cautious about. Ever since she had joined the Fellowship, he had been watching her, almost to the point of stalking. It unnerved her.

Sam nearly collided with a statue in the hall and began to concentrate on where she was going instead of debating about allies and enemies within the fellowship. Within a few minutes she found Elrond's office. It took her a moment to realize that she had, by some miracle, wandered in the right direction.

She knocked briskly on the door and waited for him to admit her.

"Come in," came his muffled voice.

Sam opened the door and gawked at the size of his office. It was even larger than General Roberts's! Two walls were covered ceiling to floor with large, but beautifully bound books. On the left side of the office (study if she really wanted to use the most appropriate term), Elrond's desk was perfectly centered in the room. He was sitting up business-like in his chair, gazing up at her in barely concealed amusement. She realized what she had been doing and instantly straightened up.

"Sorry, sir," she said. "Yesterday, as you probably know, Arwen came to speak with me to hear my side of the story from before Legolas found me."

"Aye, and Arwen informed me of your statements."

"Right...sir. But the main subject of your council came up and I was wondering if you might brief me about the enemy...sir."

Elrond leaned back in his chair. He began slowly, "During Ennorath's second age, the Elven smiths of old forged the Great Rings of power." He paused and then began an old poem:

"Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

"But in secret, Sauron forged a master Ring, the One Ring, in the fires of Mount Doom. He tricked the Elven smith, Celebrimbor, into teaching him how to forge a great Ring of power and then betrayed him and all the other smiths. Mordor became a dark land covered in Shadow. The nine Rings of Men turned them into shapeless forms of existence, slaves to the His will; the Nazgul. And now we know that he has all of the Dwarf-lords' Rings. The Elven Rings remain hidden and free for now, but should the One Ring fall back into the hands if Its master..." He trailed off. "Three thousand years ago a last alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor. And on the slopes of Mount Doom we fought for the freedom of Middle Earth. Both the leaders of the two armies—Gil-Galad and Elendil—perished. It was when Isildur, Elendil's son, took up his father's sword and cut the Ring from his hand that we won.

"I went with him to the Crack of Doom but could not convince him to destroy the Ring. Evil was allowed to walk free that day."

"Wait," interjected Sam, forgetting common courtesy, "you're telling me that you were alive three _thousand_ years ago?"

"You still do not believe in Elves," said Elrond keenly.

"I stopped believing in Elves when I was eight, when I found out that Santa's Elves were creepy little munchkin-men wearing dorky outfits."

Elrond gazed at her in confusion. It looked like he wasn't used to making the expression considering new creases appeared on his face. "Munchkin-men? Dorky?"

"Uh, Hobbit-sized guys wearing really ridiculous costumes," clarified Sam awkwardly.

"Ah," replied Elrond, still looking unsure. Then he continued. "For nearly two thousand years the Ring lay at the bottom of a river not too far from the Shire. It was found by a Hobbit-like creature named Déagol, who was murdered by his mischievous cousin, Sméagol, who then took the Ring for himself. He vanished for five hundred years into the Misty Mountains where the Ring consumed him.

"Then one day, out of sheer luck, a lost Hobbit, named Bilbo Baggins, laid his hand upon it in the dark and kept it. After escaping Sméagol-now called Gollum-he returned to his party. That is the tale in short. And now here we are sixty years later where the Ring's story continues and hopefully will end in the fires of Mount Doom. Now, my lady, you must get your rest. You have had a trying past few days."

Sam was about to protest but saw that it was indeed getting late and that sun was just about to disappear over the side of the valley.

She walked back in the direction of her room mulling over everything Elrond told her. There was no way in Hell any of this could be true. Okay, maybe some of it, like the fact that this crazy man was after this ring and was _very_ desperate to get it.

She went back to her room and went to bed, still thinking over Elrond's words.

Two months later the Fellowship set out. Within that time Sam learned that Elrond had barely scraped past the surface of the Ring's history, or at least, hadn't been very detailed, though she still didn't really believe it.

She was extremely down on Christmas for obvious reasons and was brought even lower when she found out she couldn't mope around, but instead had to leave.

Days later, the members of the Fellowship found themselves resting their exhausted legs on a somewhat rocky hilltop. Reflexively, Sam tensed and jumped at every slight sound; this is what happened before her team had died.

"Are you alright?" asked someone behind her.

Sam jumped a mile high and spun around with an arm out, ready to punch the person behind her. Her fist found Boromir's chest. He made the _oof!_ of someone who just had the wind knocked out of them, while Sam nursed her injured hand. Luckily it was just throbbing like hell; nothing serious.

"Sorry!" she gasped in pain. "Don't do that! Especially not to a spooked Lieutenant of the U.S. army."

"My apologies," rasped Boromir. "I did not realize you would react in such a way."

Sam stared at him incredulously. What had he expected her to do? Scream and hide like a little wussy Gondorian girl? "I'm a _soldier_. When I feel like I'm under attack, I'll probably react somewhat defensively," she said slowly so that he could catch every word.

"Of course, my lady," he said, doing a mini bow.

"Lieutenant Kaufmann," corrected Sam. Then she noticed something off in the distance. "What's that?"

"Nothing," said the Dwarf, "just a wisp of cloud."

"It's moving fast," observed Boromir. "Against the wind."

Legolas, who had been closely studying the "cloud", shouted suddenly, "Crebain from Dunland!"

"Hide!" cried Aragorn.

Sam took cover beneath some rocks as the others removed any traces of their quick break.

After the Crebain, which to Sam were more or less crows, passed and they came out from under cover, Gandalf announced that they were to take the pass of Caradhras.

Sam sighed and collected her things, ready to begin the next stretch of the journey.

Later that evening, the Fellowship was gathered around the pitifully small fire. Gandalf, with Aragorn's help, determined that they would reach the mountain sometime the next day.

Sam finished her dinner and went through her usual routine of finding a decent place for her sleeping bag, unraveling said sleeping bag, and slipping in.

This particular night, Sam lay on her back, watching the sky. She narrowed her eyes; something wasn't right.

She heard some noise off to her left and was instantly in a crouching position but it was just Boromir. What the hell was this guy's problem? Did he like harassing her paranoia or something? His stupidity, ignorance, or twisted entertainment was beginning to grind her last nerve. First, he stalks her, then he harasses her, the next time he pulled something he would pay regardless of whether he was in this journey with the Fellowship or not.

The sounds of everyone doing their nightly rituals filled Sam's ears. It was too freakin' loud for her taste; she wanted to hear if an enemy was coming and she couldn't do that if everyone was clanking their stuff around.

It settled down in a few more minutes and soon the only sound was the deep breathing of sleeping Middle Earthians. Sam went back to watching the sky.

By now she was sure that this was no dream. Everything was way too vivid. Every real theory she could think of was dismissed. The only relatively believable answer was that this was indeed real, but she wasn't ready to believe it.

Her eyes widened and she bolted into a sitting position, wanting to slap herself for her obliviousness. How many times had she done this with her team? How many times had she and Thompson looked up at the sky and watched the stars much as she was doing now? She figured out what was wrong. The stars, though very different than she was used to, still had the recognizable positions of the Dippers, Orion, Cassiopeia, and tons of others she had studied.

Her mind cooked up a completely new theory that supported the "being real" idea. If this was true, then the stars were telling her that a certain missile had flung her straight from present-day Iran into a Europe thousands of years ago.

**R&R**


	4. The Wolves of Isengard

**A/N: **_Sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been killing my brain and my muse on one of my other fan fics. And also, I don't know whether I'd like this to be a Sam/Legolas fic (since I know there's quite a few Legolas/OC's out there) but if enough people ask, then I can._

**Chapter 4**

~ The Wolves of Isengard ~

_Six-year-old Sammie was sitting in the living room of her parents' Colorado Springs apartment, playing with her new Cabbage Patch Kids doll. Her mother had just bought it for her birthday yesterday. Once again, her dad hadn't been present; not that it mattered. She saw so little of him that it wasn't like she really even had a father. And even when he_was_home, she spent so much of her time in her room, trying to stay hidden from his frightening, commanding presence._

_Maybe today when he would come home from the base and saw her playing like a good girl, he wouldn't hit her or Mommy because he was mad. She never understood why he was always mad. Occasionally, he would come home smelling funny and when he stumbled in the door, his eyes would swivel around the room, finally landing on her. For some reason, that always set him off on a rampage. Mommy would always cower in the corner while he threw things at her. That's when Sammie would escape. When Daddy was too busy to notice her leaving. The last time the incident would happen, two years later, she didn't see Mommy the next day, or the day after. In fact, she never saw Mommy again._

_On this particular day, Colonel Jordon Kaufmann did come home smelling funny. Sammie looked up at him reproachfully. He staggered into the room and flung himself down on the couch, which protested with a loud groan. "Hi, Daddy," Sammie whispered fearfully. His eyes roved around until he saw her a few feet away by one of the chairs._

_"What did you say?" he asked harshly. Then Sammie remembered one of Daddy's most important rules: Always speak loudly and use 'sir.'_

_"Sorry,_sir!_" she piped up. "I said 'Hi Daddy,' sir!"_

_He was up so fast she didn't even have a chance to react. Picking her up by the back of her shirt, he hissed, "What did you call me?"_

_Her eyes wide with fear, she managed to say without squeaking or wavering, "I called you 'sir,' sir." He slapped her and she whimpered. He slapped her again. This time she remained silent._

_"_Never_show weakness. You can't trust anybody. What do you think I've been trying to teach you and your mother?" he demanded._

_"I don't know, sir," she replied, on the verge of tears. Jordon, despite his drunk state, picked up on this. He slapped her again, harder this time._

_"I just told you the answer. A real soldier_listens_to his commanding officer. Do you want to be a real soldier?"_

_"Yes, sir," she croaked._

_"Then go to your room and feel ashamed for crying. No one but a little baby cries. Are you a baby?"_

_"No, sir."_

_"Then stop acting like it. A real soldier acts like everything you're not. If you want to be a real soldier then shape the hell up!" Spit was flying from his mouth. Suddenly he took the form of Colonel Jacobs. "That's an order _Lieutenant_! We will_not_go down watching that missile come to us while we stand frozen in terror!"_

_Little Sammie heard a whistling noise that sounded familiar. Before she had a chance to place it, everything shifted and she was fifteen years old, standing in her father's new apartment in Wainwright, Alaska. She was standing by her bed waiting for her father to come in and do his morning inspection of her room. Her stiff posture did not waver. Any weakness she may have had when she was younger was gone. Now Sammie was Sam Kaufmann, the only trooper in her father's command outside the military. In a few months, he would make general. True to her commanding officer, Sam would show the proper enthusiasm when it was called for._

_The door opened. "Sir!" she called. Her eyes stayed completely forward, her posture even stiffer, if that was at all possible. Her father entered and smiled in a cold satisfaction. That, in turn, made Sam's heart glow. Ever since she had been a little child, she had wanted her father to be proud of her. Even if his smile was cold and uncaring, it was enough for her that it had satisfaction._

_He walked slowly over to her bed and closely inspected it. He seemed to be taking longer than usual, but he finally straightened and inspected Sam's uniform for any wrinkles or imperfections. As he stepped back, Sam raised her hand in a sharp, crisp salute and held it, waiting for him for salute in return. He was watching her closely and it seemed to her, that there was a glimmer of pride in his eyes. If she hadn't been trained properly, she would have smiled with pleasure. Her father was proud of her._

_"Samantha?" he said in a low voice, yet one that demanded quiet attention._

_"Yes, sir?" she shouted._

_"I have been speaking with General Peterson. He has agreed that you show extraordinary potential." Sam was extremely happy now. It took all of her training to keep her face schooled in a stoic expression and her eyes focused straight ahead. "General Peterson told me last night that if you so wish, you may join the new recruits to...get a taste for the training, so to speak. What do you say, Samantha?"_

_"Sir, yes sir! I'd be honored to join the new recruits, sir!" This was even better than she had dared to hope. Not only was he proud, he wanted her to experience first-hand what she would be in for in three years!_

_Jordon smiled. Not warmly; never warmly. He never showed any sign of affection, any kindness he showed was a mere word of praise or a reward for long-time dedication. Sam had that long-time dedication._

_She stared in confusion as his face suddenly blurred into Legolas's. "Wake up!" he called in a distant voice. Lady Sama_ntha, you must wake up!"

Sam wasn't asleep anymore. The bright morning sun in her dream had already given way to a dark night filled with the terrorizing calls of bloodlust. Still disoriented, Sam grabbed her hand gun and was trying to figure out why wolves would attack such a populated part of Alaska. She shook her head as everything came back. It had been a dream. More like a couple of her more emotional memories.

She stifled a yelp in her throat as one of the wolves broke through Aragorn's defense and crashed straight at her. Whatever it was, it was _not_ a wolf. She fired a couple of shots, which hardly slew it. She kept firing and when the beast was almost upon her, did it finally die. Adrenaline pumping, she fired random shots at any large grizzly bear/ wolf cross.

As soon as the battle had begun, it ended. Sam was standing rigidly in place, still holding her gun in a firing position. "It's over, my dear good woman," said Boromir jauntily.

She turned the gun on him. "Call me 'woman' again and I swear you'll find out the hard way what those _things_ felt when they died," Sam hissed angrily. "You will call me 'Lieutenant Kaufmann' and nothing else. Since I am a true soldier, it's only right that I be treated with the same equality a _male_ soldier would be. Understand?"

Boromir barely flinched, much to her disgust. In warning, she cocked it and aimed at his feet. He still stared at her unfazed, so she fired it, the bullet just missing his right foot. She felt a rush of satisfaction when he looked at a loss to either cover his ears at the sound, jump in fright, or both.

"Enough!" commanded Gandalf. Sam quickly put the gun away and stood at attention. The memory seemed to have brought back more than just the memory part.

"It's not my fault, sir," argued Sam. "If this bastard would stop harassing me and start treating me with a soldier's respect-" She was interrupted as Aragorn laid a firm hand on her shoulder. Since she considered both him and Gandalf her new commanding officers, she shut up.

Boromir narrowed his eyes. "If the people of my country were here to hear the foul language that slips from this woman's mouth, there would surely be an uproar." He shook his head as if at a young child.

"It just shows that I can color my sentences 'nice n' purty,'" Sam remarked sarcastically. The hand on her shoulder tightened in warning.

"My lady," said Gandalf. Sam turned to look at him, though keeping one eye trained on Boromir. "You speak of soldier's respect when you show none yourself."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, but he continued. "I am referring to your lack of respect towards Boromir. And the same to Boromir. This lady is a soldier such as yourself and, yet you refuse to show her the respect you show any of the others. Masters Elf and Dwarf, take note of this. Now!" he said sharply. "I have been focusing on the petty squabbles of those in the Fellowship, rather than its safety. The wolves of Isengard are aware of our location. Alas! It is too dark to find our way and too dangerous to light anything to search for it. We shall have two to keep watch."

"I will, sir," Sam instantly volunteered. The last thing she wanted was to slip into another dream about her beast of a father and also worry about Boromir.

Gandalf nodded. "And please, my dear," he added, "keep that loud contraption put away."

"Yes, sir," replied Sam. "But, sir, I won't have a weapon to defend myself with if I do."

"I didn't say you could not use it. Though it might be better if you didn't unless you absolutely had to."

Sam smiled. "Yes-"

"I shall watch with her," said Boromir.

"You shan't," said Legolas. "You would surely be killed if all of us were to sleep with but you two awake. I shall watch with Samantha."

"For once I agree with the elf," muttered Gimli.

With that, the Fellowship laid down to rest. Boromir did so somewhat sulkily, but Sam didn't care. She had allies among allies in the Fellowship and was therefore not worried about the stupid idiot.

Slowly, one by one, Sam heard everyone's breathing slow and deepen, with the exception of herself, Legolas, and Aragorn. Aragorn probably because he was a Ranger and was therefore able to control his breathing, even in sleep.

"Samantha," said Legolas.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you insist on arguing with Boromir?" he asked.

Sam's skin pricked with irritation. "Because he pretty much asks for it." Legolas remained silent. Sam had to take her frustration out somehow so she growled lamely but fiercely, "You argue with Gimli all the time!"

Legolas answered in his soft, quiet voice, "Elves and Dwarves have been sworn enemies as long as I can remember. That added to the fact that there is bad blood between our fathers, helps naught. Is there bad blood between the men and women of your country?"

"No we-we get along great. I was raised by a dad who was a high rank than I am now. He was my CO when I was a kid and he always was until I was brought overseas to Iraq. I was raised to stand as an equal or superior to men below me. I have heard that Boromir is a captain, which is above me. _My_problem is, is he doesn't act like it. He acts like a freak who doesn't know anything about women except how to have sex with them. And it's really pissing me off." Sam's voice was getting progressively louder, but she realized this and said in a quieter voice, "He's the one I don't treat with respect because-" her voice caught. Because her father had walked all over her and her mother when she was younger and Boromir was trying to do something similar to her. _'Never let anyone see you show weakness. Not your enemies and especially not your allies. If you let others walk all over you, then you are showing weakness."_ Her father's words flowed through her head.

"Because what?" Legolas coaxed gently.

"Nothing," Sam snapped.

"You are a very complex person," mused Legolas.

"I hear that all _women_ are complex," Sam replied bitterly.

"Person," corrected Legolas stubbornly.

Sam sighed. "Complex how? Maybe I can be simpler if you _guys_ need me to."

Legolas ignored the subtle insult. "You like to be respected as an equal, but will only obey orders if Aragorn or Mithrandir give you permission."

"Obeying and respect aren't the same," said Sam. "Aragorn and Gandalf are my COs. They treat me with respect and I treat them with _equal_ respect. Boromir may be a CO, but he certainly doesn't act like it." Sam folded her arms and gave a small huff. Then something else occurred to her and she deflated slightly. "Isn't that Sorry man guy from Isengard?"

"Aye, Saruman is from Isengard," replied Legolas, trying to hide amusement.

"Right, Saruman," said Sam distantly. "So how did he know we were here? I mean, if those _things_ were from Isengard too, then that has to mean that he sent them. Right?"

"Mm hmm."

"Well, that's all fine and dandy, but you still didn't answer my question."

"I am thinking."

"Think faster then."

Legolas smiled in amusement. He was glad that she couldn't see him because he was sure she would punch him for smiling during this conversation. "I think that when the crebain flew over out camp, we did not do such a good job of hiding ourselves as we thought. Saruman predicted was Mithrandir would do next-lead us to Caradhras-and tried to bring the mountain down upon us."

"So that our little mission to cross this fair mountain would be a total bust," muttered Sam.

Legolas continued as if uninterrupted. "He then anticipated that Mithrandir would turn back and take this road. If we are correct about those wolves being from Isengard, though, we must make haste at dawn."

Sam glanced up at the sky. "You mean in, like, two hours." The familiar constellations hovered at the edge of her peripheral vision but she did her best to ignore them.

"Why do you behave the way you do?" Legolas asked suddenly. "Meaning, you are more of a soldier than even some men I have met...and more honorable. Yet," he paused, "yet, there is something. Some motivation behind your behavior. I see pain if certain subjects are broached. Maybe if you were to tell someone then-"

"Then how 'bout it's none of your damn business," Sam snapped.

Unfazed, Legolas said, "You would feel better if you told someone you trusted."

"Who say I trust any of you," Sam shot back.

Legolas paused. "Then why did you join the Fellowship if you did not trust its people?"

Sam took a shuddery sigh. "When I told you about my te-_friends_ I was telling the truth. They-they died and I am the only one left. I feel that it is my duty to-to fight and succeed in this battle where I failed in the last. I-"

"Samantha," Legolas gently interrupted. "I can completely understand what you are feeling now."

"No you can't," argued Sam. Tears sprang to her eyes. _'Oh crap. No weakness, no weakness, no weakness...I can't cry. I can't show weakness. Not even to allies.'_ Despite her desperate urging, they still slid silently down her cheeks.

"I can understand, Samantha, and I do," Legolas said in the same gentle tone. "Some time ago, two friends and I were on a patrol in the southern half of my father's forest. There were many, many more than the scouts had originally thought. My friends were shot down almost as soon as we went into battle. I was so badly injured—" Sam could almost feel him shudder even though they were a good three or four yards away and with a fire "—and the orcs left me. They thought I was dead. When we didn't return, Ada sent another small patrol in search of us. They found my friends and thought the worst for me. To-to this day, I always ask myself, 'Why? Why was I the only one that survived? Everyone knows that I should be dead; the wounds were fatal.' Why?"

Sam shook her head to clear it. She was letting her guard down. For all she knew, this guy was trying to lull her into a false sense of security and have someone...do what exactly?

"Why do you not trust us?" Legolas coaxed.

"It goes against everything I believe in. I haven't believed in Elves since I was a very little kid and my dad, he sort of bred anything young and childish out of me by the time I was nine," said Sam in a choked voice.

"Why?" demanded Legolas sharply. Childhood was something to be cherished, not taken away!

"My mom and I were more like his troops instead of his family. Besides, I let him; I _wanted_ to let him take my innocent child-like views," said Sam bitterly. She had a bad taste in her mouth and she could thank memories of her dear father for that.

"Why?" asked Legolas again, this time more quietly.

"I wanted him to be proud of me," said Sam simply. "All my life he always seemed to hate my essence in the house. Because of that, I wanted him to be proud. I worked harder to be the soldier he wanted me to be, even if I wasn't even ten."

They were silent for some time after that. Finally, the first rays of sun peeked up over the mountains. Off in the distance, if Sam looked hard enough, she saw what looked like dark storm clouds forming a nightmare away.

_'That's where we're going,'_ she thought. _'Am I really willing to go there and risk my life for a bunch of people I don't know, let alone trust?"_

**R&R**


	5. Off to see the Mines of Moria

**A/N 1: **_I won't ramble much for those who are desperate to get to the story but this is an important point that needs to be made for a later chapter. In Sam's original world, there is no Lord of the Rings trilogy. If there was, Sam would be in serious trouble in future chapters. I can't say much more or it will give stuff away._

_Anyway, without further adieu..._

**Chapter 5**

~ Off to see the Mines of Moria ~

Aragorn was the first to stir. He was shortly followed by Gandalf and Gimli. By that time, Sam had managed to suppress the more emotional side she had just showed. Waiting for everyone to fully wake up gave her time to think everything she had said to Legolas over.

It was especially embarrassing now. Why did she say everything to Legolas? It was the sort of tactic her father would have used. Wait until she was upset and then...

_'And then he takes advantage of the fact that I'm vulnerable. Dammit! He_will_pay for that._

She abruptly stood up and walked stiffly over toward Legolas. He, Aragorn, Gandalf and Gimli were sitting by the fire. If she had bothered to notice, she would have seen Boromir sitting up and trying to fully wake up as well.

Sam walked up behind the elf. "Legolas." When he turned, she brought her hand back and before Legolas could react, her fist collided with the side of his face.

He fell forward with a grunt. Aragorn leapt up to help his friend. Gimli was looking back and forth between Sam and Legolas in shock.

Gandalf's gaze remained fixated on Sam but she refused to show any shame. Legolas had lulled her into a false sense of security and made her go against what she believed in. _'What I believe...or my father?'_Sam thought suddenly. _'No. No, I will not think like that.'_

Finally, Gandalf quietly said, "Samantha. What purpose was behind your attack on Legolas?"

She turned to Legolas and saw the same question in his eyes. "You knew I was already upset and you used that to your advantage. You were just talking about respect and you show none to_me_ by getting me to talk about things I don't want to talk about and you have no business in knowing," she said in the same low voice her father would use when he was really angry. "What is with the people here? You are such hypocrites!" With that, she stalked away, careful to grab her Beretta, and walked to the edge of the forest.

Her shouting (or the other three were just quick to do so) must have awakened the Hobbits, because within ten minutes everyone was packed up and had joined her by the forest's edge. To Sam's satisfaction, Legolas's jaw was slightly swollen and a faint bruise was beginning to form. He glanced at her with an unreadable expression and Gandalf motioned for the Fellowship to set off.

Sam dropped toward the back with Pippin. "What happened?" he whispered.

"Legolas," she growled quietly. "I was pissed last night, and my dream before the wolf attack already had me upset. He took advantage of that and got me to talk about things I don't want anyone to know and he had no business in asking about."

"What things?" he asked.

Sam was so angry at the moment that Pippin was lucky she even considered him a friend. Otherwise, he would be a couple inches shorter than he already was. "Crap about my past. Just stuff like that. You know, I was already being lectured about respect and then he goes and shows me disrespect by ignoring the fact I don't like to talk about my past or family and starts asking me about just that. He just joined Boromir on my Least Favorite People list."

By now, the Fellowship was familiar with Sam's strange way of talking and it wasn't as hard for them to figure out what she was talking about. "I would not be very happy either." said Pippin, as if unsure of exactly how to respond.

Sam suddenly "felt" something behind her thanks to her life-long military training. She whirled around, at the same time pulling out her berretta, and pointing it in the general direction she sensed the person. All that found the point of her gun was a startled and slightly disgruntled Legolas.

"What do you want?" she asked bluntly, turning around and resuming walking. He lengthened his stride to catch up.

"Milady, I wanted to apologize for my...lack of respect last night. I intended no harm on your behalf, yet it appears I was the one most harmed because of it," he said with a wry smile.

"I'll accept, but I won't apologize for punching you," Sam said lightly. She heard a slightly aggravated huff from Legolas.

"My lady, I only wish to befriend you. As do the others."

"'Others' meaning Boromir? You two are so damn persistent. Either that or just plain stupid because I'm obviously very, very pissed off at you and you still keep talking to me. Boromir is the exact same way when he's trying to harass me," Sam said in the same light tone, but this time with a touch of sarcasm.

"Once again, my lady, I apologize. I was only trying to be a friend and help you-"

"Well that sure as hell wasn't the way to do it," Sam retorted. "And besides, if you want to be a friend, don't piss me off. And give me one freakin' reason to trust you guys."

They had lagged behind slightly and Sam walked faster to catch up.

The Fellowship paused briefly just after noon, and then trudged slowly on. Legolas had kept his distance from Sam, unlike Boromir. Sam was beginning to wish she had punched Boromir instead of Legolas because the man was too stupid to get it through his head that Sam just wanted to be left alone. She was more than tempted to do it too, save for the fact Gandalf really wouldn't approve. Boromir seemed to know this, too, and constantly did things to try to piss her off. It was working.

Towards the end of the day, Gandalf halted the Company again but told them not to set camp yet. He turned to them and asked who would wish to search for the hidden doors of Durin with him. Gimli was, naturally, the first to oblige.

"I will," Aragorn volunteered heavily. "You followed my lead to near disaster on Caradhras, and have said no word of blame. But hear my warning: If you pass through the doors, beware!"

"I _shan't_ go," responded Boromir, "unless the whole of the Company stands against me. But what do Legolas and the little folk say?"

_'Uh-uh, he did_not_just refer to me as one of the "little folk,"'_ seethed Sam. He was going to pay for _that._

"I have no wish to enter Moria," answered Legolas.

"Well, I _will_ go," said Sam, casting a hostile glance at Boromir.

The hobbits said nothing. Samwise glanced at Frodo. At length, Frodo said, "I, too, have no wish to enter the mines, but neither do I wish to refuse the advice of Gandalf. There should be no vote until we have had time to sleep upon it."

The wind howled fiercely, whistling and hissing across the rocks. The Fellowship lapsed into silence, pondering their final decisions while rolling out their bedrolls. The wind took on a different note and Aragorn suddenly leapt up. "Wargs," he hissed, though loudly enough for them to hear. "The wind howls with them."

"The decision is made for us, then," said Gandalf. "The hunt is up."

"Nay, Gandalf," argued Boromir. "How far is Moria?"

"There is a door southwest of the Mountain. It is some fifteen miles as the crow flies, though twenty as the wolf runs," Gandalf grimly answered.

"Then perhaps we should start at the morrow. The wolf that one hears is worse than the orc that one fears," said Boromir.

"But where the warg howls, there also the orc prowls," Aragorn countered.

_'Boromir is one huge idiot. If my vote counted, I'd say we should get the hell outta here,'_ thought Sam nervously.

"We shall go to Moria immediately," decided Gandalf.

"Good," muttered Sam. "Those wolves are giving me the heebie-jeebies."

Gandalf looked at her but said nothing. The Fellowship picked up their bedrolls and began their trek through the seemingly endless darkness.

**A/N 2: **_I've hit a small writer's block in this chapter so I'm going to end it. And for those who've read the book, this is AU (that and my book kept flipping pages on me so I got lost and parts of the story got out of order. Sorry 'bout that ). This is also a good spot for me to stop because I can start the next part with a whole new blank sheet._

**R&R**


	6. A Journey in the Dark

**A/N 1: **_On a random note, I think found a happy medium between having a Legolas/OC and non Legolas/OC. Hopefully, people both ways should be happy._

**Chapter 6**

~ A Journey in the Dark ~

By dusk the next evening, the Fellowship arrived at the location Gandalf assumed the doors were stationed.

Even going at their slow pace, they had yet to encounter any danger.

As dusk deepened to twilight, the full moon illuminated the whole rock face. Sam gasped in amazement as tendrils of light, not unlike the moon's, twisted and shaped two doors.

Gandalf studied writing a moment before speaking aloud. "It says, _'The doors of Durin, Lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.'_ And, below, faintly, it reads, _'I, Narvi, made them. Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.'_"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked bluntly. Her frankness brought stares from the rest of the fellowship.

"Why, my lady," said Boromir in an eloquent tone that Sam wanted to slap him senseless, and definitely not for the first or last time; "it means precisely what it says."

"I meant..." growled Sam. "You know what? Never mind. You're not worth it." She had meant, "What does the 'Speak, friend, and enter' part mean," but if Boromir was going to be an asshole, then she wouldn't bother asking.

The last thing any of them spoke was Gandalf saying, _"Annon edhellen, edro hi ammen! Fennas nogothrim, lasto beth lammen!"_ That did nothing but dim the moon's light on the doors.

Time seemed to pass so agonizingly slowly.

Sam glanced over to her left and saw Aragorn trying to convince Samwise to let Bill, the pony, go. Closer, were Merry and Pippin tossing rocks into the lake. To her right, Legolas and Gimli were sitting with their back turned to each other like a couple of spoiled children. Frodo was staring intently at the writing on the doors, while Gandalf muttered other words in languages she had never heard before.

"'It means precisely what it says,'" she murmured to herself.

"My lady?" Boromir asked.

Sam jumped. "Stay away from me. Keep coming, and I swear I will kill you before your little orc buddies come within one hundred yards."

"I must protest. I have done nothing to insult you, fairest."

In one swift movement, Sam punched him in the gut. When he bent down in reaction, she hit his face with her knee. Blood spurted from his nose and he fell to the ground holding his face.

"You're right. You've only said crap to piss me off. Any more and I swear I will hurt you." Sam stalked away and stood before the doors. _"Speak, friend, and enter." That almost sounds like you need to speak friend... Or at least,_say_friend._ Then she laughed. "'Precisely what it says!' Boromir, I think this is the one time you will ever be right!" When her chortles died down a little, she noticed everyone, with the exception of Aragorn and the younger two hobbits staring nervously at her, she said, "Speak friend. Or more exactly, _say_ friend."

"Of course!" exclaimed Frodo, his eyes shining. "What's the Elvish word for 'friend'?"

Gandalf replied, _"Mellon,"_ and the doors rumbled and creaked steadily open.

Sam heard something slithering through the water just a couple of seconds before Frodo hit the ground with a cry. When she turned, she saw a huge tentacle had emerged from the lake and wrapped itself around Frodo's ankle. _Damn it!_ she thought. _Too bad boot camp didn't cover how to save a charge from a giant octopus/squid thing._

Before any of them could collect their wits, Samwise leapt forward and started hacking at the tentacle, which had begun to drag Frodo to the water.

The small shore became a mini battle zone as Sam, Legolas, Boromir, and Aragorn charged for the octopus. The tentacle Samwise had lopped off hung uselessly so the creature sent more flailing arms for Frodo.

Stopping a short distance away, Sam fired her gun and Legolas rapidly shot a couple arrows from his bow, while the two men fought to get Frodo free. _Shit! That thing is either three squids or some de-evolved squid with twenty something odd legs!_ Careful to avoid the hobbits and men, she emptied her clip at the center where all the legs seemed to originate.

With their combined efforts, the beast released the hobbit and Boromir dragged him and Samwise to safety while the others covered his retreat.

All of them raced into the mines and the creature grabbed the doors and ripped them off, causing their only near escape to be cut off.

It was pitch black. Sam took a flashlight out of her pack as Gandalf found his own light. Though very frightened, Pippin still was curious about Sam's "magical light." She, on the other hand, was more curious about where Gandalf had found something even brighter for the tip of his staff.

"Oh, poor Bill!" she heard Samwise weep. "I had to choose. Poor Bill or Mr. Frodo!

They walked forward. Something cracked under Sam's foot and she shined her light down. With a startled yelp, she whirled the flashlight around, confirming her suspicions. The others jumped and turned to see what had frightened Sam.

"This isn't a freakin' mine!" she hissed. Pointing her light off in some direction, she revealed piles of bones. Most of them were hobbit or dwarf sized but a few were larger, bulkier. "It's like a monastery or something." Images from the war of dead children and women, their features burned beyond recognition from bombs clouded her mind. Breathing heavily, she forced the images away and jerked herself back to reality.

"No!" Gimli wailed. Apparently the skeletons were dwarvish because Sam didn't see the hobbits showing any kind of emotional pain. A loud cry erupted from Gimli.

"Shh!" scolded Gandalf. "Gimli, we will go forth first. Frodo will be in the middle and I want Samantha at the end with her strange device. The rest may order yourselves as you see fit."

Some order restored, Gimli reluctantly got up and walked with Gandalf and the others followed them.

Four days they traveled as such. On the fourth, they came upon three passageways dividing off their main one.

Gandalf paused before the passages, apparently confused. "I have no memory of this place," he whispered.

Sam went to investigate. "I just want to look, not go in," she said to Gandalf, who was about to open his mouth. With an exasperated sigh, he nodded wearily and sat down, staring thoughtfully into the tunnels' depths.

The passage on the right sloped upward, but it was so littered with decaying skeletons that the Fellowship would be hard-put to follow it. Swallowing bile, she investigated the middle. It went straight ahead but was nearly empty of and bodies, yet the stench that drifted out of it made Sam continue to the third. This one went downwards. Some bones littered it but other than that, it was fine.

She gagged as she walked by the middle passageway to rejoin the Fellowship.

"What did you see?" Pippin asked as she sat down next to him and Merry.

"Nothing we haven't seen here already," responded Sam.

Legolas ran a whetstone over his knives nervously. Though they gleamed with a fierce sharpness, he paid no notice. Sam still hadn't forgiven his taking advantage of her momentary weakness.

She felt eyes boring into her back. Boromir sat watching her intently. "What?" she snapped. He just smiled and looked away.

Pippin glanced at her nervously. Upon seeing her glare wasn't meant for him, he relaxed and tried to find the source. "He doesn't mean any harm," he whispered, referring to the man.

"Bull," Sam whispered back. "I'm not a slut and I don't want him to keep flirting with me and acting like I am."

Not entirely understanding her words, Pippin just nodded.

Out of boredom, Sam reorganized her survival pack, careful to avoid any articles of clothing. She found her laser light. Wickedly, she pressed the button and had the little light slide over the floor toward Boromir. It crawled up on his gauntlet and reflected into his eyes. He used the opposite hand to wave in front of his face, as if at an annoying fly. All but Frodo, Gandalf, Samwise, and Gimli were watching her. When his tactic didn't work, Boromir glanced carelessly down at his gauntlet. Not knowing what sorcery had caused this, he jumped up with a cry. Sam pressed the button repeatedly at the floor, making the light appear and disappear in random places and agitating Boromir further. Finally, worried that she would run her battery down, Sam put the laser light back into her pack with her flashlight. She had been very careful about preserving its energy. It was supposed to have limitless energy thanks to some scientist's law but she still didn't want to press her luck.

Cautiously, Boromir sat down again, casting quick, suspicious glances around, looking for the source of the light. His eyes landed on Sam but her face was a mask of innocence. Inside, she was dying to laugh; Boromir was worth something after all: pure entertainment. His eyes found the two hobbits who looked awed, and then Legolas who appeared serious, but as Boromir's face let his, he was obviously struggling to control a chortle. Aragorn did not look amused.

Gandalf broke off from talking with Frodo, both of which were completely oblivious to what had just happened to Boromir. "Ah!" Gandalf said. "It's that way." He motioned toward the left passage.

"He's remembered!" cried Merry with relief.

"No," Gandalf responded, using his staff to help him up. "But the air isn't so foul down there. When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose."

Merry didn't appear so relieved at this bit of news.

They continued steadily downward, pausing rarely. In Gandalf's light, she saw Boromir's nervous glance slide off of shadowed areas like he thought the little red light would come back. She snickered silently.

An hour or so later, they emerged in a large chamber. "Let me risk a little more light," Gandalf said. His staff brightened, illuminating the most magnificent hall she had ever seen. Unashamedly and openly gaping, she tried to see where it ended but, either it was so vast the light could not reach the end, or the shadows from the light prevented her from seeing very far.

"Now there's an eye opener an' no mistake," Samwise said to Frodo.

"Welcome, to the great dwarven city of Dwarrowdelf," Gandalf said, reminding Sam slightly of a tour guide.

Sam shook her flashlight, charging it, and the Fellowship walked down the hallway. Sam felt tiny and insignificant next to the towering pillars on both sides.

Gandalf told, sorrowfully, of how the great city was no more, plundered by the orcs for mithril, a super strong metal that was feather-light and extremely rare. He said that the dwarves had become too greedy from the wealth they had gained from mithril and they "delved too greedily and too deep", bringing their doom. No one was alive who could tell anyone exactly what had destroyed the dwarves, but it was called Durin's Bane.

As they finally reached the end, their legs tired and sore, they saw a tiny chamber off to one side. "No," said Gimli, sounding horrified. He raced to the chamber.

"Gimli!" Gandalf cried but it was too late. Gimli had entered the chamber. He collapsed next to a large stone rectangle with sunlight shining on it. They heard his despairing wails as they, too, entered the chamber. Sam realized it was a tomb.

"We must move of," Legolas said to Aragorn. "We cannot linger."

Gandalf walked over to Gimli and read something that was engraved on the stone. "'Balin, son of Fundin, Lord of Moria'. He is dead then. It's as I feared."

Bile rose in Sam's thought as Gandalf took as rotting book out of the bony hands of a skeleton resting against the tomb. He carefully opened the book and read, "'They have taken the bridge and the second hall. We have barred the gates, but cannot hold them for long. Drums, drums in the deep. We cannot get out. A Shadow moves in the dark. We cannot get out. They are coming."

It was chilling for Sam to hear someone's last moments repeated. Especially when they were facing so much fear in those last moments. Suddenly a loud _bang!_ echoed behind her. She jumped around, taking out her pistol in the process. Both guns had less than five clips left and she was trying to preserve them, so she had the gun on safety; her biggest problem in handling guns was her consistency of firing it off whenever she was startled by something.

Pippin was standing next to a well and a dwarvish skeleton was sliding loudly down into the well.

Gandalf angrily slammed the book shut and a cloud of dust rose from it. "Fool of a Took!" he shouted at the poor hobbit. "Throw yourself in next time and rid us of your stupidity!" As he began to turn back to Balin's tomb, a soft boom came up from the well's depths. He glanced back to look at Pippin, who was staring, frightened, into the well. More beats sounded.

Legolas was still for a moment before shooting Aragorn an alarmed glance. "Orcs!" he said.

Boromir raced to the door. He leaned his head out only to jerk it back in several seconds later, else it be hit with arrows. "They have a cave troll," he announced in exasperation.

"Trolls!" Sam shouted furiously. "First Elves and Dwarves and Wizards, mutants wolves and giant, twenty-tentacled squids! Now you're throwing _trolls_ at me? What the hell are you trying to pull?"

"Samantha, control yourself," Gandalf ordered. Legolas and Aragorn ignored her; they were too busy helping Boromir block the doors with axes.

"I've played along with this long enough. When I see a troll I _might_ believe it's real." Sam shut her mouth tightly.

"We have no time for this foolishness," Gandalf said. "I am weary of putting up with your ignorance. Either you will fight with us and open your mind or you can go out there, and join Sauron's orcs. If you choose the latter, they will not be so kind as us."

Sam glared at him and pulled out her gun, aiming it at the door. This was getting ridiculous. This was a friggin' fantasy world! Iran was a country who invented weapons. Maybe this was a psychological sort of weapon.

Whatever was going on, it didn't matter. She had sworn to protect these people and she never went back on her word. If all else would fail for her, like it had now, pride would help her see to it her word was kept.

Everyone stood ready, waiting for the inevitable. Orcs broke little pieces of door away. Legolas took the opportunity to release an arrow. An orc shrieked with pain. Aragorn took released an arrow. Both bows were quickly notched again. Moments later, the doors burst open and the battle began as orcs flooded the tiny chamber.

At first, the orcs were wary of Sam's new weaponry but they easily got over it and began to charge at her. In the end, she emptied one clip and had no time to take it out and put another in, so she resigned herself to using it as a sort of sword. It was a horrible mistake. An orc thrust at her. Her arm jolted with shock as she parried. The only good that came was a successfully parried blow. She had no idea how much longer her arms would last if the first orc's strength was any indication of the others'.

Desperate, she ran for higher ground, switching to her pistol. She could barely hear it over the clanging of metal and the shrieks of orcs. She found a ledge. There, she was able to reload her larger gun and begin firing again. The odds were sad. If she judged correctly, it was about five to one. It didn't sound too back except for the fact that meant it was nine versus nearly fifty. The chamber's size was also a hindrance.

Without warning, several orcs came through the doors, holding chains very tightly. The chains led to something so tall she couldn't see it through the doors. The wall crumbled as a fourteen foot creature Sam guess was the troll came in. Right now, I didn't matter if it really was real or not, she wanted the damn thing dead. She fired her pistol at it but it acted like the bullets were flies. Either that, or her gun wasn't working properly. When she tried to use the big gun, it clicked but nothing came out. She checked the side. Safety was off. _Damn it. It must be jammed from my brilliant parry earlier,_ thought Sam in disgust.

Digging in her pack, she found a long knife. It'd have to do. She left her pack on the ledge and jumped down. Her pack would just make her slow and she needed as much room to maneuver as she could get.

She dodged another thrust in her direction. While the orc was recovering, she took the opportunity to rush in and stab it in the head. Deciding a scimitar would be more useful, she threw her knife back on the ledge. "Oof!" she grunted, picking the heavy sword up. Only stubbornness and adrenaline made it possible for her to even attempt to kill with it.

A side slash came at her and she blocked it. Her sword rang loudly and she gritted her teeth as her arms were jarred. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something large swing at her. She dropped the sword and rolled to her right. A shriek behind her made her look up in horror. The troll was looming above her. This was one time she would not stand and let death come to her; she ran in a crouch away from the troll. It thundered after her. Then it stopped. She turned to see it going after the hobbits, namely Frodo. Feeling suddenly helpless without a weapon, she grabbed another sword, this one smaller and much lighter than the one she used before.

"Aragorn. Aragorn!" came Frodo's terrified cries. Sam saw Frodo cornered by the troll. The Ranger dashed to his side, trying to kill the troll. The troll only became agitated and threw Aragorn against a wall, knocking him unconscious.

The next few moments were a blur. Everyone became enraged as the troll too the weapon Aragorn had used against it to stab Frodo. Pure rage filled her. She exchanged blows with two orcs, ignoring a cut inflicted on her shoulder. Both orcs fell, dead, from her sword. Frodo was dead after she had sworn to protect him! Her enemies would pay _dearly_ for that. Three more orcs died by her hand before she realized the battle was over and the troll was dead.

Her new sword suddenly weighed ten thousand pounds and it fell heavily to the floor. Sheer will power forced her to limp over to Frodo's body instead of falling to the floor where she stood.

The little hobbit gasped and clutched where the troll had stabbed him. "I'm alright!" he breathed. "I'm not hurt."

"You should be dead," marveled Aragorn. "That spear would have skewered a wild boar."

"I think there's more to this hobbit than meets the eyes," said Gandalf in amusement.

Frodo undid a couple of buttons to reveal the finest metal Sam had ever seen.

"Mithril!" Gimli didn't even bother to hide his amazement.

No wonder Frodo could hide it so well if it was feather light. She was both resentful and relieved. He didn't bother to tell any of them about it, but he also wasn't dead. Now that her adrenaline and bloodlust had faded, she was tired and hurting. Then she remembered her pack and her sword. It had been really light and she knew that she'd need a sword when she ran out of clips. Her guns wouldn't last as swords for more than five minutes, as she so rudely found out. She trudged over to her sword and picked it up. It wasn't as heavy as it had been when her adrenaline had first faded and she searched for a sheath and belt. One that looked close to the sword poked out from beneath a few bodies. Tugging it out, she found that her sword fit in it perfectly. Not bothering to buckle to bloodied belt just yet, she went to the ledge and tried to haul herself up but her arm stung and she was too weak.

"My lady," said Legolas from behind. "With no offense meant, you are too weak; I will get your things for you." Not waiting for her to protest, he easily climbed up and brought her pack back down.

Needing to put her sword somewhere, she decided to ignore the blood and just put the belt on. "I see you found a weapon that is useable. I must say, though, I am surprise you wielded it so easily. Most swords are too heavy for first-timers to use."

"It wasn't heavy," Sam said sleepily. "The orc's scimitar was though." Shaking her head, she tried to clear her muddled thoughts. If she was feeling so weak and tired, more so than she knew she should, then that meant she was losing too much blood. She didn't want to slow the Fellowship down anymore, so she didn't mention it.

"I'll carry this," he said as she reached for her pack. "Ugh! It is no wonder you could lift a sword if you have had to carry this burden your whole journey here."

"Military regs," she murmured.

Another drum sounded. "To the Bridge of Khazad-dûm!" Gandalf shouted.

Legolas ran ahead as Sam stumbled behind, every step jarring her already throbbing wound.

**A/N 2: **_My muse decided to be nice and come back for the end of this. Now I'll have something to work with for the next chapter._

**R&R**


	7. The Bridge of KhazadDum

**A/N 1: **_For any fellow die-hard fans, this isn't going to be word for word of both book or movie though I'm attempting to make it follow both. It's kinda hard to try to remember lines from a movie you haven't seen in months while following its book counterpart._

**Chapter 7**

~ The Bridge of Khazad-dûm ~

They raced out of the chamber but Sam, who was rapidly losing blood, began to lag behind. With the clear part of her mind, she forced herself to make a bandage on the run to bind her injury. They had reached the far side of the hall when something rumbled on the other end.

"A Balrog!" wailed Legolas.

"Durin's Bane," Gimli whispered.

"Run! This foe is beyond any of you!" said Gandalf.

Boromir was in the lead, pelting down some stairs when he suddenly stopped short and waved his arms like he was off balance. Legolas raced ahead and wrapped an arm around the man's chest and leaned backward, successfully keeping Boromir from falling to a very sudden death.

Aragorn paused like he wanted to go back but Gandalf quickly came into view. "Aragorn, lead them on," the old wizard ordered. When Aragorn showed no sign of listening, Gandalf grabbed his shoulder and gave him a shove. "Do as I say!" If she hadn't been in so much pain and so afraid, Sam probably would have laughed at the ruffled expression on Aragorn's face.

Despite any misgivings he might have, Aragorn obeyed Gandalf and led them down a staircase to their left. They came upon a section where the Balrog's shakings caused staircase to fall away. Legolas easily jumped across. "Gandalf!" he called. Gandalf followed as did Boromir with Merry and Pippin.

Sam looked at the gap uncomprehendingly as Samwise was tossed across. Aragorn reached for Gimli, who stopped him. "Nobody tosses a dwarf!" He leapt across the chasm and would have fallen if Legolas hadn't snaked a hand forward and caught the Dwarf's beard. "Ah! Not the beard!" he cried as he was hauled to safety.

Sam stumbled forward dangerously close to the gap as yet another shake hit the area. Aragorn unintentionally grabbed her bad arm and she cried in pain. She went limp in a near faint, so he held her close with one arm and steadied Frodo with the other.

During this time, a huge slab of rock had crashed down, taking the top part of their stairs with it. Sam held Aragorn tightly when she felt the rock start to shift. After what seemed like forever, Aragorn's voice drifted through her fog. "Lean forward!" The rock began to rapidly fall in some direction before jarring to a stop. She and Aragorn were caught by Legolas (Sam could tell this only from the long, white-blonde hair).

Aragorn stooped as if to pick her up. "No, no," she muttered. "I can walk. I just need you to help me." He slung her left arm (the good arm) around his shoulders and put his arm around her waist. With his support, she was able to move somewhat effectively. "It hurts," she murmured.

"Are you sure you don't wish for me to carry you?" Aragorn asked.

"No," Sam responded. "It helps me stay awake. I can't sleep. Might not wake up."

That was her last coherent sentence before all she was able to concentrate on was not falling and staying awake. At one point, she was aware of Aragorn shifting to walk sideways but then he just stopped. He wouldn't let her sink to the ground. "Gdamove," she whispered. "Cntslp." Oh, how she so desperately wanted to sleep.

There was a lot of roaring and someone yelling. It resembled a high pitched cry. _Probably a hobbit,_ she thought. Rock cracked, sounding very close to gunshots. Sam had to go for cover. She couldn't stand there and let the enemy take her. She struggled feebly in Aragorn's arms as he drug her off. Then she was aware of bright light. In her mind, she was in the desert, trying to run from Iranians, who were chasing her and yelling curses in their language. "Fly you fools!" they shouted to her. She didn't understand why the enemy was telling her to run.

"Get them up!"

_"Get them up, Kaufmann!" screeched Sergeant Lee._

_"Sir, yes, sir!" Sam shouted back. "Come on team. Get up! We can't let the other teams beat us. We're stronger."_

_"Yeah," gasped her friend, Jen. "But we got less stamina."_

_"I don't care how you move, just don't sit," Sam ordered. "You can walk, but we can't come in last._

_"Kaufmann..." Lee said threateningly._

_"I'm trying, sir," cried Sam._

_Something was wrong. Everything was familiar: her boot camp, the competition her team had won. Why were they just sitting around if they were supposed to win?_

"The wind was in his flowing hair,

The foam about him shone;

Afar they saw him strong and fair

Go riding like a swan.

_Sam looked around in confusion. Who was singing? Her nine teammates shifted into nine haggard people she recognized but could not place. The old, grey one began to fade and the singing continued:_

But from the West has come no word,

And on the Hither Shore

No tidings Elven-folk have heard

Of Amroth ever more.

"Water," she gasped, returning to wakefulness. The singing still wasn't gone but the melody was from a nearby river. No one heard her so she struggled stiffly into a sitting position, using her left arm. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was in a beautiful forest. The surrounding trees did not have leaves of yellow, red, or orange, but were a gentle golden hue.

Legolas was the first to see her. "Lady," he said.

Her eyes focused confused on his face. "Where...?" She swallowed. "Water, please."

Aragorn, who was nearest, placed a flask against her lips. "Don't drink-"

"Fast," she finished. "I'm dehydrated, not retarded." She took slow sips until she was full. One problem taken care of, she took stock of injuries. Mostly it was just bruises that covered every inch of her body. The most major injury was her arm, which was bound and pleasantly painless. None of her clothes appeared to be messed with; for this she was grateful because it meant that no one had felt intrusive enough to check her body for injury. The only other thing she could complain about was a throbbing head. In dismay, she noticed her pack and weapons missing. "Where are we? Where did you put my weapons?"

"We, _Belegwen,_have reached the woods of Lothlórien and are presently by the Nimrodel," answered Legolas. "As for your weapons...your larger noisemaker fell into the chasm. The little one was still in its sheath. Your knife is still in your pack and your sword..." He shook his head in amazement. "Where did you find it?"

"I found it on the floor of the chamber," Sam answered, puzzled. At the moment, all hostility was forgotten. "The sheath was under a pile of bodies. Why?"

"Your sword is very magnificent," Aragorn said. "It has a very high value, and, knowing what it is, it's no wonder you found it so easy to wield."

"That still doesn't tell me much," Sam protested.

"Indeed it should," Aragorn retorted.

"Your sword is made of mithril," Legolas said quietly. "The hilt is made of silver and diamond. The sheath is simple silver-cast gold. It would have been very difficult to forge. I have to wonder why the dwarves had a sword in that particular room, especially since they so favor their axes."

"But I get to keep it, right?" Sam asked. "My M-16 was gone even before it fell and my pistol is almost out of clips. Except for my knife, I won't have anything."

"We had no intention of making you relinquish your weapon," Aragorn said. "But, do you think you are able enough to walk?"

"Yeah. Uh, two more questions," Sam said. "What does _belegwen_ mean?"

"Belegwen literally means _mighty_ or _strong maiden_," Legolas answered. "We have seen greater men than you fall to so much bloodloss."

"And," Sam swallowed, glancing around, "what happened to Gandalf?"

The two exchanged an uneasy glance.

"He fell into the Shadow," Legolas replied.

"I may vaguely remember that," Sam whispered. Then remembering her delusional stupor, she choked, "Did have any, like, final words or anything?" Despite her misgivings about the elderly man, Sam was still surprisingly upset by his death.

"He told us to go, fly," Legolas answered sadly. Aragorn walked over to the others.

"'Fly you fools,'" Sam whispered. She had thought he was an enemy. He was about to die for them and she repaid him by trying to get away from him. _Talk about gratitude,_ she admonished herself.

"Come, Belegwen," Legolas said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. She winced as he hit a bruise. He offered his hand and she pulled herself up. "We must continue."

"Yeah, yeah," groaned Sam. She strapped her new sword around her waist and, with Legolas's help, managed to keep up with the others.

**A/N 2: **_All of my Elvish words are accurate. The names anyway, so if anyone wants to look it up,__Belegwen__really does mean "mighty/strong maiden."_

**A/N Edit 2012:**_ As of right now—and probably forever—this is the point at which Sam's journey ends. Keep this story in your alerts; you never know, I may actually continue with it. At this point, however, it seems unlikely. I'm sorry, but thank you all so very much for reading all the same. Panda cookies for all. As many as you want._

**R&R**


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